‘…so near…yet so far…’my hubby lamented about his promotional chances while he drove but never cared to remember my birthday…that annoyed ...e and I kept quite…’…another chance is coming up in few days…I did all I can…hope they fill up the post at least this time…’he sighed…’…let us hope for the best…’I wished…‘…poor Venkat…still busy back there…’I commented as we stopped for lunch at a hotel on out skirts… ’…still hungry for him…’ my hubby queried…’…jealous…’ I taunted him…’…how was his wife…’ I. FBI Special Agent in Charge, Hank Morristown, invited me to his office on Summit Street. It looked like a low-rise ball bearing factory. Undistinguished, could be anywhere. Except for the imposing wrought iron fence.Agent Morristown was as nondescript as his building. In his 50s, balding, round tortoiseshell glasses, navy blue suit.He had worked with Daddy for years. Homicide Captain Dave Jennings was one of the few local officials who willingly cooperated with the Feds. Daddy had told me, more. Membership is granted rarely, and only to the rich and powerful.It has everything you'd expect of a gentleman's club; fine spirits, leather chairs, cuisine prepared by the finest chefs from around the world. The members meet to discuss business, influence politics, and fuck like rabbits. Yes, London's most prominent businessmen and politicians all scurry to the safety of the Ganymede Club to drop all strictures of society and indulge in passions still held as illegal in Victorian society.The. We made a little small-talk, but it was mostly garbage about news and weather. When we were finally done eating, the three of us looked at each other and were at a loss as to how to start the conversation.“Okay, Barb,” Jane said finally. “What did you want to talk about tonight?” she asked, breaking the ice and trying to move things along so that we could get this over and done.Barb bit her lip and fidgeted some, awkward for the first time that I can recall. “I wanted to try to fix things so.
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